Malediction
by ClassTitans Olympia
Summary: The team is sent by Hera to retrieve a top-secret document, though what the file contains is a mystery. An ancient curse soon threatens to take hold, and before long, the mission is colored with betrayal, vengeance, and lies. Old enemies resurface, and they soon have to face the prospect of a traitor among the team. Please R
1. Abort

_According to Greek mythology, the Arae were female spirits of retribution, placing hexes against those who had murdered in cold blood. They granted a single curse to each soul that had been cheated from life, a single curse to enact their vengeance. _

* * *

Herry launched himself forward, gravel biting into his forearm as he slid across the muddy earth. Dirt clung to his fingernails, and an array of scratches marked his hands. How many germs were spawning along his muddied cuts and gashes? He shuddered, once again wishing that he'd remembered to bring sanitizer along on the mission. Next time he was making Odie pack for him.

He leaned closer to the ground as the shuffle of footsteps resounded. Herry squinted, just barely distinguishing the outlines of another troop of guards. They marched under glaring arc lights, traveling up and down the barracks. He raised a hand to finger the comm link positioned in his ear. "Jay, I—" He paused at the eruption of static, probably Odie sighing into his mouthpiece again.

"Herry! You're supposed to use code names like we talked about!"

"Oh. Right. Uh, Brawn to team, the guards have just rounded the, uh, corner thing."

"Leader to team," Jay said, "Herry, which corner are you at?"

"_Brawn_," Odie corrected with a scowl, "'_Brawn which corner are you at?'_ That's the whole point of code names. So that if our comm link is intercepted they won't know who we are."

"Well it's not like we used last names," Archie interjected.

There was silence after that, but Herry could practically feel the heat of Odie's glare. He took the next minute to scour for something, a fixture or landmark, to identify the area. There was a hole in the chain-link fence, but that wasn't easily detectable at night.

"Never mind, I see you." Odie peered at Herry through his night vision goggles, courtesy of Hephaestus. "Brain to Leader, look for a loose steel girder along the base of the compound. After you've spotted it, send Warrior and Huntress in to retrieve the item. The rest of you rendezvous at our meeting spot."

Herry shrank back into the shadows, ready to move, when a high-pitched shriek pierced the air.

"Remind me why we brought him along?" Atlanta groaned.

Footsteps thudded and Herry heard the low rumble of nearby voices issuing orders. Great. They'd probably been spotted.

"Move!" Jay ordered. Herry didn't need to be told twice. He broke into a run, trading in stealth for speed, and deserted the compound with powerful strides. The base became a blur in the distance as he scaled the chain link fence. His lungs ached, but not unpleasantly.

"Theresa look out!" Jay's shout was not over the comm link, but came from several yards ahead from where Herry stood. A squad of guards with implacable expressions fired into the night. The scene flickered oddly before Herry's eyes. He saw triggers being pulled, bullets being fired, and Theresa, her mane of fiery hair flying behind her as she leaped, not away from the onslaught of bullets, but towards them. A flash of purplish light, and the guards crumpled to the ground, unconscious. The bullets were nowhere in sight. Theresa gave a shaky exhale from where she, Jay, and Odie stood.

"Persephone taught me that," she said with a ghost of a smile. The smile was just a quirk of lips, but carried both pride and shame.

"Don't these guys work for the government?" Herry asked. "Can't believe they would fire at us. We're just—" the descendants of Greek heroes sent by the Olympian gods to retrieve a sealed, top-secret file. But still, they were still only in high-school.

Odie pinched the bridge of his nose, shifting his glasses slightly askew. "Top secret base. We were compromising security. Of course they fired at us," he eyed the black fabric of their stealth gear. "Plus we don't exactly look like you're average meddling kids dressed in these."

Herry frowned. Did Odie always have to correct him?

"Never mind that." Jay was now flush against Theresa's side. He raised his index and middle finger to his ear. "Archie, Atlanta. Have you got the item?"

"No. The whole building's on lock-down, because someone gave our position away!" Atlanta responded.

A defensive gasp sounded. "Like this is my fault!" Neil whined. An audible smack! sounded over the comm. "We'll regroup tomorrow. Meet us back here."

"Can't," Atlanta answered through gritted teeth. "Archie's locked inside. He made it in before the door shut. And all the windows are barricaded. He's not responding to the comm, either."

Jay's jaw clenched as he ran scenarios through his head. "Meet us back here and we'll figure out what to do."

"But-"

"Now." Herry was amazed that Jay could sound both gentle and authoritative with one simple word.

Atlanta replied, albeit reluctantly, with an irritable sigh of "Fine," and after a few minutes, she and Neil met up with the rest of the team. "What's our next move?" Atlanta asked automatically, at the same time Neil said "Hey, guys-". Though no one particularly paid attention to Neil.

"Well we can't exactly break in," Odie pointed out, "the mission was supposed to be covert. They know we're here, but chances are they don't know how many of us there are."

Jay gave an almost imperceptible nod. "Odie's right. We'll head back to New Olympia and figure out what to do from there."

"No way! Archie—"

"—Archie will be fine. But we won't be doing him any favours if they do a parameter check and find that we're still here. We need them to think that we've left."

"And what if they don't lift the lockdown?" Atlanta shot back.

"Then Odie will hack into the mainframe and we'll... we'll figure something out."

Herry turned to Odie. "Can you do that? Hack into the mainframe?"

Odie twiddled his thumbs anxiously. "I'm not sure. Normally it would be a cinch but this place has top level security. I'd definitely need better equipment, so we'd have to go back to New Olympia anyways."

"Uh, guys, back to me!" Neil exclaimed, clearly vexed that the conversation wasn't focused on him.

Atlanta glared daggers at him. "What?" she snapped, injecting as much venom into her voice as she could muster. It was his fault that they'd been seen. He'd probably only flipped out because he'd gotten some dirt on his face, or something.

"I saw someone!"

"Who was it?" Jay asked impatiently.

"Beats me. Some girl."

"Are we talking school girl, civilian, or—?"

"More like whatever Theresa and Atlanta are."

"Gee, thanks." Atlanta and Theresa shared an eye-roll.

"Guys! Hello! There was a girl here. Why would she be at a secret base?"

But the rest of the group was already packing up their gear, so Herry took his cue from them and ignored Neil's rant. He unhooked the comm set from his ear, and packed it in his burlap sack.

"I've got some anesthetic for that," Odie nodded at a particularly bad scrape running down Herry's arm.

His first instinct was to dismiss the offer, but it was no secret that he had a... slight aversion to germs and infections. "Thanks," he said with a tentative smile.

Theresa wiped the last half hour or so from the still unconscious guards' minds, and then they were gone. Vanishing into the night, with only the soft, velvet layers of moonlight to guide them.


	2. Tacit

_Centuries ago, the Arae offered a Greek king the chance to curse the man who had arranged his untimely death. In life the king had been a wise man, so he pondered their offer carefully. Looking around the kingdom of hell that surrounded him, he realized that he did not only thirst for vengeance against the man who had killed him, but on all mortals who walked the earth while he rotted in the Underworld. _

* * *

Theresa's eyelids fluttered shut as the warm water from the shower cascaded down her body, washing away dirt and grime and blood—evidence of their late night excursion. She rinsed her hair with shampoo, running her hands through her auburn tresses to unknot the tangles and strands sticky with blood. But excluding a jagged cut on her forehead, she was almost completely unscathed from the mission. The mission which had not gone as successfully as they'd hoped.

She bit her cheek in annoyance. The mission could have gone better, but after a quiet summer with Cronus staying off the grid, of course they'd been a bit rusty. Theresa had only started up her psychic training with Persephone last week. No, what bothered her was that they'd been sent on another errand to retrieve something for the gods, yet they couldn't be trusted with knowing what the file was even about.

Not that she was going to voice her irritation. Ever since her powers had escalated and she'd attacked the Olympians, she'd felt a bit estranged from her team mates. Not that they judged her, but an unspoken tension was still palpable.

She sighed, scrubbing at her bare arms and torso until she was sure there was going to be a bruise. It was calming listening to the steady sounds of water hitting the tiled floor, not unlike the pattering of rain.

It was also nice to not have Neil knocking on the outside door, threatening to break the door down if she didn't stop using all the hot water. Where was Neil, anyway? Unlike everyone else, he'd been lucky enough not to get injured or cut during the mission, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to spend an hour in the bathroom to ogle at his face in the mirror.

Wringing her hair, Theresa turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. She examined her reflection in the steamy mirror. Not so much out of vanity, but out curiosity.

In that moment, she did not look like the rich, elegant girl that she was. She looked tired and worn, like a toy that had been overused. It was as if a set of weights had been attached to either end of her mouth, tugging her lips down into a heavy frown.

Shaking her head as if to scatter her superfluous thoughts, she wrapped a bright pink towel around her sopping hair, and an even larger towel around her body.

When she opened the door, a rush of cold air met her skin, lifting goosebumps along her arms and legs. A voice reverberated from downstairs. Theresa followed the sound, loitering uncertainly in the living room doorway. Jay, Herry, Odie, Atlanta, and Neil were seated in front of a cross looking Athena.

"Why can't you tell us what's in the file?" Odie pressed, and Theresa suddenly wished she'd spent less time in the shower so that she'd heard the rest of the conversation.

"Because I—we can't. It would cross the line of our," Athena's voice faltered as she grasped for words, a problem the goddess of wisdom didn't normally face. "As immortals that would count as crossing our boundaries," she said finally, "kind of like how I can't go to the Underworld unless permitted by Hades or Persephone. The file contains information that we can't divulge, or try to steal. But you five, being mortals, _can_ steal it."

"Six," Jay corrected softly, being the first to notice Theresa in the doorway.

Athena glanced over her shoulder and ushered Theresa into the room with a light wave.

"We _can_ steal it? When you say it like that you make it sound like it's easy," Atlanta grumbled.

"Infiltrating a clandestine base and stealing a classified document is most certainly not easy. But, as Hera put it, there will be serious repercussions if you fail. Have you been able to make contact with Archie?"

"No," Atlanta answered, sinking lower into the plush sofa.

Theresa bit her lip. "If we head back to the base I could try contacting Archie telepathically." She half-hoped that they would turn down her offer. She was still wary of her psychic powers, and if she couldn't limit it to a psychic conversation, she could easily end up intruding on his personal thoughts.

"Could you really do that?" Atlanta asked, sitting upright. "Communicate with him?"

"Er—theoretically, yes."

Athena turned her steely gray-eyed gaze on Theresa. "From what I hear, Theresa has a very firm rein on her powers."

There was a certain edge to Athena's voice. Something that Theresa couldn't quite place. Did the gods always have to speak in riddles? Theresa was about to question what Athena meant, when she saw something flash in her stormy eyes. A flash of colour, vivid, glittering.

It was as if everyone else had disappeared from the room. It was just Theresa and those grey eyes. Grey eyes that concealed a dangerous secret. The type of secret meant to stay unspoken, but not unknown.

Bile burned its way up Theresa's throat. For a moment she stood there, disoriented, before she bolted out of the living room of the Brownstone to retreat to her room. She heard a chorus of confused voices, but their words were pushed to the periphery of her mind. All she could hear was the nervous staccato of her erratic heartbeat.


	3. Perpetrator

_Finally, the Greek king decided on a suitable curse that would reap vengeance on those who had wronged him. The Arae executed the curse by creating a seemingly incurable disease. However, before the sickness could take hold, Hygieia, the Greek goddess of health intervened._

* * *

_Eighteen hours._ He'd been trapped inside the Facility for just over eighteen hours. Archie leaned his head against the wall. The metal was cool, but it barely registered against his burning forehead. Archie had slipped into the air vents within the first hour after someone, namely Neil, had triggered the alert, thereby initiating a full perimeter lockdown.

He'd spend the subsequent hours trying to maneuver through the vents in perpetual darkness, but without any progress. He wondered how long it would be until symptoms of undernourishment kicked in? Biting his cheek until the coppery taste of blood pervaded his mouth, Archie forced himself to wriggle forwards through the vent, though his muscles shook from the slightest bit of applied pressure.

He felt weak, and light-headed, but what Archie mostly felt was... annoyance. He was the descendant of_ Achilles_, yet here he was lying low. He wanted action, because at least that way he'd get a temporary boost from adrenaline.

But the hours had been quiet, and he didn't dare try to use his comm link, not when the Facility could track his software in a heartbeat.

As he rounded the corner, he saw that the vent branched out to two separate paths. He started down the right one, when an echoing voice resounded, carrying through the vents and passages. Archie inched backwards and slipped into the left vent, craning his ear to detect every harsh syllable. The voice definitely came from below. It was a heavily accented masculine voice.

Archie pressed his ear against the bottom of the vent, as a pang of hunger jarred him. He ignored it, and continued to listen. His initial excitement faded as he realized the conversing voices were not speaking English.

Archie fumbled for the communicator in his pocket. The air vent was uncomfortably tight, but he managed to retrieve it nonetheless. No going back now. He turned it on, and pressed record. The voice continued for another minute or so, before the shuffle of retreating footsteps. Archie pressed the 'translate' button, and held the device to his ear as it replayed the conversation - but this time in English.

"Sir, the file's been taken from the stronghold."

"Meddlesome brat," the second voice cursed. "I want every guard within the compound to regroup. Stop and apprehend the perpetrator. Use any force necessary."

"But sir- we're talking about a teenager. A-a kid."

"A kid who managed to infiltrate our base, and steal the most valuable piece of information on the globe. Gun her down if you have to."

"But-"

"_Any force necessary_, lieutenant."

"Yes, sir."

Archie inhaled sharply, and hastily wiped the conversation from his communicator, before pocketing it. If they'd picked up on the frequency of his communicator, then he was already caught. But by the sounds of it, the rest of the Team was still here. Which posed one question, who was the girl the guards had mentioned? Atlanta or Theresa?

A part of him secretly wished it was Atlanta; he was more familiar with her combative style, and it was more likely that it was her. Atlanta was fast, but not fast enough to avoid being seen. Theresa was capable of wiping the guards' minds, so it didn't make sense that she was the one with the file.

So lost in thought, Archie almost didn't notice the grate in front of him had already been removed until it was too late. Another inch forward and he would've tumbled out of the air vent. As silently as he could, he picked up the grate and examined it. There was no sign of cutting or force, but a halo of screws were littered beside it. Someone removed it manually.

Sucking in a nervous lungful of air, he peaked through the opening. It was just wide enough for him to slip down through. But the Facility had cavernous rooms, and there was no way to estimate how far the drop was.

An image of him falling through the air on Halloween, and his golden ankle brace shattering, rushed to the surface of his mind. It could just as easily happen again.

But he'd already risked using his communicator, and it was likely that the Facility's guards were already tracking the signal. Without another thought, Archie slipped forward and tumbled through the air. He landed on the ground with an ungraceful thud. Pain shot up his legs, which had bent at unusual angles, but the brace was still intact.

He just needed a minute to catch his breath, and he'd be alright.

No, he realized with a start. He wasn't alright.

Call it a sixth sense, but he could tell there was someone in the room with him. He felt the heat of that someone's gaze boring into the back of his head. "Who's there?" he demanded, braving the silence. His voice was too rough, too scratchy.

A silhouette emerged from the shadows. He couldn't make out the face, but from the person's stature, he could tell it was a definitely a girl.

"Atlanta?" he whispered.

The girl stepped another foot forward, a thin smile gracing her feature's.

"Oh." Archie murmured, finally taking stock of the folder clenched tightly in the girl's grasp.


	4. Affliction

_The disease came from the Underworld, and Hygieia had no way to neutralize its powers. Instead, she confiscated it from the Arae and hid it in a secure location where no one would find it._

* * *

Much to Odie's chagrin, he still couldn't figure out what the folder they'd been sent to retrieve contained. He'd known from the moment Hera had ushered them into her private study that something was wrong. The whole atmosphere had been thick with a numbing sort of tension. When the goddess spoke, there were anxious undertones to her attempt at a calm voice.

"I'm sending the seven of you to a top-secret government facility in the Republic of Macedonia." Macedonia, Odie had noted at the time, was a country bordered by Greece. "You are to recover a folder that _should_ be locked within the base. It is vital that you bring the folder to either Zeus or myself. And you cannot be spotted infiltrating the base." Hera's nose had crinkled slightly as she frowned. She'd looked older in that moment. Like, a whole millennium older. "Remember, there will be dire consequences for us and for the world if you fail."

The Facility, as it turned out, was a thirty-six thousand square foot compound with hundreds of armed guards and state of the art technology.

They'd failed to carry out their mission. Simple as that. But it was the factor of the unknown that was eating away at Odie. Even after traveling to the Facility and being within close proximity to the folder, what it contained was unbeknownst to them. Whether the document was something as simple as a new ambrosia recipe, or as elaborate as... as...

"Ugh," Odie groaned, resting his head in his hands. His temples throbbed.

Athena had made it clear that they could not divulge any information on the file. But that didn't mean the team couldn't find out.

Odie strode over to his computer desk, and pressed the power button. Soon, blue light from the screen flared up, bathing the dimly lit room with an unnaturally bright glow. His fingertips settled comfortably on the keyboard, and he began typing away like a mad man. His high-tech search engine proved unequipped to finding anything on the Facility, but Odie's hacking software had yet to fail him.

"Page is encrypted," Odie acknowledged, a hint of a smile gracing his features. "Not for long."

Odie may not have been as physically adept as his teammates, but when he had technology at his fingertips, he was easily as powerful. The minutes ticked on, and though this level of decoding and hacking wasn't exactly a cinch, he managed to successfully bypass security. With the click of the mouse, the files began downloading.

Odie began perusing for any info on the mysterious file, when he thought back to their meeting in the living room. Despite her calm front, Atlanta's concern for Archie was evident. Maybe he could find out a bit about Archie's current predicament while he had the chance. "Security footage," Odie mumbled, opening the coverage of the last twenty-four hours.

The stealth uniforms had served their purpose. The cameras had glimpsed Neil and Atlanta at one point, but with the black suits they were practically unrecognizable.

Odie skipped through the rest of the footage. It hadn't picked up anything out of the ordinary. There were no stills of Archie, and though it was unnerving that there was no record of him being in the base, it was also a relief that he hadn't been spotted. Odie moved the mouse pointer so that it hovered over the top right corner of the page. Just as he was about to close the video file, something caught his eye.

There was a flicker of movement, a millisecond of static, and then the footage returned to normal.

Squinting, Odie replayed the last few seconds, slowing the play speed of the video. The person the camera had captured was not one of the Facility's guards. It was also not one of the seven heroes.

Pausing the video, he zoomed in on the pixelated face. She had soft, pretty features and hair that looked like liquid honey. That, paired with her wide-set eyes, gave the overall impression of an innocent girl bordering adulthood. The last kind of person you'd expect to be at a government base.

Odie leaned forward, bringing his face closer to the screen. His glasses slipped a bit down his nose, but he ignored them. He replayed the clip again. The flicker of static occurred immediately after the girl's face came in front of the screen. Strange.

He allowed the video to continue playing. But nothing odd happened after that. In fact, nothing happened at all. Even the footage from the security camera pointing towards the field didn't change. There had been wind that night. But, rather than swaying in the breeze, the blades of grass were still. The footage was on a constant loop.

"Guys!" Odie called down the hall, pushing the door open. "There's something I think you should see."

Atlanta was the first to enter the hall, followed by Herry, then Jay, and finally Theresa.

"I hacked into the facility's security-"

"-Hey guys," Neil interrupted. "This better be quick. I need my nine hours of beauty sleep."

Atlanta stared icily at him. "Save it," she snapped. "It's your fault that we got caught! And that Archie's trapped inside."

Neil opened his mouth, about to defend himself, when Atlanta added, "_You_ triggered the alarm!"

"Maybe not," Odie interjected slowly, making sure to tread lightly around Atlanta. "I have footage that shows someone else was at the Facility that night. A girl."

"What did she look like?" Jay asked, trying to get a mental picture.

"Tall with straight blonde hair. I can show you the clip."

Jay nodded his head appraisingly, "good work, Odie."

"Uh, hello? I told you I saw a girl when we were at the base!" Neil exclaimed, his voice an octave higher than usual. But everyone else had already entered the room, blatantly ignoring him.

Odie replayed the clip, a swell of pride in his voice as he explained how he'd acquired the footage. "I'm still analyzing their files. I haven't found anything yet on what the folder we're after contains, though."

Theresa ducked her head. "I know what the folder contains."

Odie turned to face her, just as everyone else did.

"I think Athena sent me a telepathic image. That or I read her mind without meaning to."

Of course. It didn't matter how hard Odie tried to aid the team. In the end, he wasn't endowed with super strength or speed or telepathy. He was just smart. And when it came to saving the world, that didn't quite cut it. Did Theresa even have to try to find out what the file pertained to? Odie had spent the last three hours of his time to make the slightest advancement. Swallowing back his irritation, he listened as Theresa continued.

"The file has information on a disease. It's a formula made of magic and science; it's incurable. And we're not the only ones after it. If another government organization, or even someone like Cronus gets their hands on it, we could be facing biological warfare."


	5. Fabricate

_Still, the Arae were servants of the Underworld and the disease they'd fabricated sprung from the essence of death. A substance of death, like the disease, could be hidden in very few places. _

* * *

"That's a nice weapon," the girl commented, her voice a lilting cadence that thrummed along Archie's spine.

"You should see it in action," he quipped. The handle of the Adamantine whip fit snugly in his hand.

The girl's face broke out into a smile, her flash of unnaturally bright teeth setting him even more on edge. She had this air about her, something in her gaze maybe, that was almost... calming. She was innocent and pretty, and incapable of usurping a government file. But somehow she had. Despite his instinct to trust her, Archie didn't.

"But did you come here for a fight?" she asked in a sickly sweet voice that flowed like honey. "Or for this?" Wordlessly, she raised the folder to eye-level.

Archie clenched the handle of his whip tighter, poised to strike. "I don't suppose you'd just hand it over, would you?"

"You know the saying," her voice was almost too sweet to stomach, "an eye for an eye."

"What do you want in return?"

She smiled. "All I need a bit of assistance getting out of the Facility unscathed."

"So you broke into the Facility to steal a document," Archie began slowly, "which you're willing to give to me as long as I help you get out of the base? Sorry, not buying it."

Her smile faltered, and Archie fought down the urge to take back what he'd said, to comfort her. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't want to see her upset. Her frown was short-lived, however, and in another moment she was smiling once more.

"Maybe we're both after the same thing. What's your name?"

Archie smirked. As if he was going to trust her. He wasn't going to trust anyone... with such strange eyes. He couldn't place what color they were. Blue, maybe? But with flecks of gold, brown, and green as well. Or maybe they weren't any of those colors. Maybe they were just reflecting light from the objects in the room. Still, there was no denying they were pretty. And intense. Almost like a rainbow that had been submerged under water. And surely someone with such nice eyes could be trusted. No one evil was ever that pretty. _No one_ was ever that pretty, though he couldn't pinpoint exactly what made her so beautiful.

"Archie," he answered, because really, what harm was there in sharing his name?

"Archie," she repeated. His name sounded strange on her tongue, more musical. "Follow me."

She turned and pressed her back to the wall, slowly inching forwards. She moved soundlessly, like a shadow. Archie followed reluctantly, albeit obediently.

"There," she pointed vaguely into the next room. "Take out the troop of guards."

"Folder first," he said through his teeth.

"But you want to take them out," she smiled in that condescending way adults did when they explained something very complicated to a small child. "It will be easier if you just knock them out."

Archie blinked. He felt as if everything had been coated with a layer of fog. "That's not really my style," he muttered to his feet, purposely evading her gaze. He didn't really like her eyes anymore. They were so strange.

He risked a glance at her face. Her smile was even wider now, all cheeks and teeth. "Don't you—"

"—You there!" a pair of eyes so dark they appeared to be only pupils locked on Archie. The man yelled something foreign to the other guards. Probably issuing some sort of command.

Archie turned back to the girl with the strange eyes, but she was nowhere to be seen. He felt his heart rate start to pick up as he scanned the room for another exit. At least five guards were rushing towards him. This was the typical fight or flight scenario, except that Archie was facing the enemy alone. And the 'enemy' was not a beast or entity straight out of mythology, but a human being. Several human beings. Fight didn't seem like a viable option.

"Flight then." With breakneck speed his whip shot out and struck the archway between him and the room full of guards. Mortar and brick crumbled from the ceiling, chunks of debris raining down like a relentless storm. It should buy him enough time to find an alternative way out.

The sound of nearby voices faded into a wet pounding in Archie's ears, the sound of blood coursing through veins. He turned and headed into the adjoining room through a side exit. A criss-cross of steel bars covered the room's only window. So the lock-down still hadn't been lifted. His heart in his throat, he started towards a metal staircase. Really, who designed these buildings?

The second-story of the Facility didn't differ much from the first; plain slate-grey walls, linoleum floor, and a maze of cavernous rooms. Archie ran down the hallway, his vision blurring red at the corners. He was beginning to feel light-headed as well. Low-blood sugar. Great. The meager food rations he'd packed were already long gone.

Archie dug his nails into his palms, welcoming the pain as a distraction. The end of the hallway lead to yet another flight of stairs which opened up onto a roof. He exited the building without hesitation, but immediately cringed. The blinding light of day was like needles to his eyes.

He squinted, slowly adjusting to the intense brightness, when he heard the audible shuffle of footsteps. Without a moment's hesitation, he pocketed his whip and hoisted himself over the parapet. His hands and feet fought for purchase as he half fell, half climbed down the side of the building. His ankle still throbbed with pain from when he'd fallen out of the air vent, and the landing onto solid earth was no softer. Still, Archie didn't have time to assess his injuries. With or without the file, he was getting out of this place.

He ran towards the chain-link fence, ready to climb over it and make his escape.

"I wouldn't do that," a lilting voice sing-songed.

Archie whirled around, raising an eyebrow as he did so.

"It's electric," she said matter-of-factly.

"Nice try," he offered a hollow laugh, "my friends and I scaled the fence yesterday. Without being electrified."

"Only because I turned the power off. But don't listen to me. See for yourself. The velocity is set to lethal. One touch and your heart stops. Of course, you could stick with me. I'll get you out through the front gate."

Despite his better judgement, Archie chose the latter option. "You know," he began as they broke into a frenetic run, "you still haven't told me your name."

"Apate."

"Nice name."

"Likewise."

The front gate, as it turned out, was a massive hunk of chain link and corrugated steel, lined with cruel looking points. Impossible to climb. But Apate didn't have any intention of climbing over. She reached into her vest pocket, unveiling a plastic card.

"How'd you get that?" Archie asked suspiciously.

"Maybe I nicked it off a guard? Or maybe a guard gave it to me." She sounded so smug. He wanted to smack the grin off her face with his Adamantine whip.

Apate inserted the card and the gate slowly began to open. But not before the guards caught up with them.

"You there! Drop the file!" The raucous voice grated on Archie's nerves. His heart was beating dangerously fast now, as if it were trying to free its self from its ribcage. He turned, bringing his hands up behind his head to face the officials. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Apate do the same.

There were three guards, three empty holsters, and three fully loaded rifles, all of which were trained on him and Apate. Archie didn't even have time to consider pulling out his whip when the tumultuous sound of a gun went off.


	6. Stalemate

_Hygieia knew that in order for the disease to be safely hidden, it would have to be relocated to a place where the Arae would be unable to sense it. Such a place could only exist where neither life nor death met. A place safeguarded by the hands of time and free of mortal taint.  
_

* * *

The tension in the room was so thick, Atlanta could cut it with a knife. Finally, she found her voice. "We have to go back. Not just for Archie. We need to get the file." Each of her words was punctuated with a growing urgency.

Odie was the next one to regain his wits. "I don't know. If _we_ couldn't even get the folder... maybe it's better off staying at the Facility. I mean, if they were going to use the formula, wouldn't they have already done so? It seems to me like it's already in a secure enough location."

"Just because we couldn't get the folder, doesn't mean no one else would be able to," Jay interjected, "If Cronus were after it, for example, what would be stopping him?"

Theresa shuddered visibly. "I have a really bad feeling about this."

"You don't say," Neil muttered as he fought back a yawn.

Atlanta locked eyes with Jay. He was the unspoken leader. It all came down to what he decided.

"Look, it's late. We won't be able to do anything if we're all still half asleep. We'll figure this out in the morning, when we're better rested."

The group nodded their agreement and headed to their rooms. Except for Atlanta. Her fatigue was bone-deep, but there was no way she'd be able to get even a minute of rest — not when her thoughts were racing a mile a minute. Instead, she traipsed into the kitchen, the smooth tile cool beneath her bare feet.

It was no secret that Herry ate when he was distressed, but she didn't feel particularly hungry. Sighing, she slid into a chair and leaned against the table, with nothing to distract her thoughts from running wild. What was Archie doing right now? Had he been caught? Was there a chance he'd managed to steal the file on his own? And if he _had_ stolen the file, then what? Would they just bring it to New Olympia and hand it over to the gods? And if it was a formula for a mortal disease, why would the gods even want it?

Atlanta propped her head on her hands, allowing her eyes to shut for the briefest of moments.

The next thing she knew, a light hand was on her shoulder. As a huntress, she was naturally a light sleeper. She jerked upright and whirled around, fists clenched.

Jay's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked.

Atlanta peered blearily at him through tired, half-lidded eyes. She slowly allowed her muscles to relax. "Uh, yeah, something like that."

He nodded, strands of brown hair falling out of place. "Neither could I. Somehow it just feels like this whole covert-government-hacking mission is on a bigger scale then, well..."

"Taking out Cronus' henchmen?" she guessed.

"Exactly. And we haven't even heard anything about Cronus all summer! That can't be a coincidence."

"Maybe it's not," she stifled a yawn. "Either way, we have to go back there."

Jay nodded. "I know. And I know you're worried about Archie. I just wish we had more time to come up with a—"

"—You're right. I _am _worried about Archie, and whether or not you back me up, I'm going to help him."

Jay bit the inside of his cheek, but before he could try reasoning with her, Atlanta slammed her fist on the table. "If Theresa was the one locked inside, we probably wouldn't have left in the first place. The longer we wait," she paused as her throat tightened. No. She was not going to break in front of Jay — in front of anyone.

"Okay," he conceded. "We'll go. It's seven a.m. right now; I'll wake the others up."

Seven a.m.? Atlanta stole a glance at the stove clock, confirming the time. She'd dozed off after all, and for quite a few hours at that.

Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she got to her feet and began packing for the mission: a bag of granola, her steel bolas, a bottle of water. Artemis had taught her that as a huntress she needed to pack lightly. Atlanta was about to head for her room to slip into her gear, when she hesitated. Her stomach was knotted with anxiety, and any food she attempted to stomach would probably come back up. Still, once Herry got at the fridge, it would probably be devoid of food. She paused to inspect the fridge's contents, and ultimately decided on a banana.

A few audibly tired groans resounded from upstairs, and Atlanta didn't envy Jay in the least for having to be the one to wake Neil up. After finishing her breakfast, she ascended the staircase, almost smacking into Theresa.

"Hey," she greeted her.

"Hey," Theresa grumbled back, her tangled hair an indication of restless sleep.

"You sleep okay?"

"No. It was weird. I didn't dream about _anything_."

"It's possible you simply forgot what you dreamt about," Odie cut in, emerging from his room with a bulging backpack slung around his shoulders.

Theresa shot him a withering look.

"Or," he continued, unfazed, "it's possible that you didn't reach REM sleep."

"Am I supposed to know what that means?" Theresa deadpanned.

"REM sleep stands for 'rapid eye movement' and is the fifth stage of sleep, also when dreaming is most likely to occur. Most people typically dream 4-6 times a night..."

Atlanta sighed inwardly as Odie rattled on. He could pretty much regurgitate a whole textbook if you let him.

"It's weird though," Theresa interrupted. "I usually remember what I dream about. And a lot of them end up coming true. My head felt really foggy last night, like someone put a blindfold on my clairvoyant powers."

Atlanta bit her lip. Theresa sounded genuinely worried. "Hey, don't worry. I'm sure it was just from lack of sleep, or a headache or something," she said reassuringly.

Theresa flashed her a grateful smile and headed downstairs, though she was unable to shake her looming sense of dread. Odie followed close behind, shouldering his pack.

"Hey, what've you got in there, anyways?" Atlanta inquired, halting him with a tug on the strap.

"Hacking software, night vision goggles, iodine, mini first aid kit, hand sanitizer for Herry, and Gatorade."

"Seriously?"

He stared shrewdly. "What? Gatorade doesn't just rehydrate, but also balances electrolytes."

"Sure, sure." She released her hold on his pack, and rounded the hallway. Once ensconced in her room, Atlanta slipped into her stealth gear, and fastened her laser crossbow to her wrist. Having her primary weapon with her helped quell her nerves. She felt safer, more at ease with it. _'We're going to get you, Archie,'_ she promised silently.

About forty-five minutes later, the group stood in Hermes' room in front of his not-so-secret portal, where a caduceus symbol was emblazoned.

"Okay, we'll take the portal to Skopje, the capital city of Macedonia, and walk to the Facility on foot," Jay decided decisively. "Odie will hack into the mainframe and temporarily turn off the power. That will most likely lure the guards away from the back entrance where we can try to sneak in. If we do encounter any guards, Theresa will put them in stasis. Atlanta," he nodded to her, "you're the fastest and will have the best luck getting the file. We'll go from there."

If Atlanta hadn't heard it all before, she would've been almost flummoxed by Jay's speech. It was amazing how a seemingly normal anxiety-prone teenager with aspirations of becoming an astronomer could effortlessly morph into the heroic leader of seven. She didn't have time to dwell on it any longer, though, because in another moment they were stepping through the portal.

It took another few hours for them to reach the Facility, but as soon as they did, Atlanta knew something was wrong. There was a frenzied feeling in the pit of her stomach, a sixth sense telling her to run. So she did. But not towards the back exit, as they'd planned, but towards the front gate.

"Atlanta, wait!" Jay called.

She skidded to a stop, smelling the blood before she saw it. The fetid, coppery scent rushed to her nostrils, triggering her gag reflex. She fought the spasm down, and instead rushed forwards. "Archie!" she cried.

He turned, whip in hand, a stricken expression on his face.

"What hap-?" she started to ask, but choked on the last word as she caught sight of a girl standing beside Archie. A very pretty girl, whose face was somehow familiar.

Three guards were on the ground, one with a pool of blood forming around his shoulder.

"What happened?" Archie repeated. "That's what I'd like to know too."

"It would seem that one of the guards _accidentally_ pulled his trigger. And that he has very poor aim," the girl spoke in a honeyed voice. "Instead of shooting us, his teammate got a bullet to the shoulder. Pity."

"They weren't going to shoot us!" Archie spat. "Not if we didn't fight back."

"But that didn't stop you from knocking the other two unconscious." Her smile widened, and despite her sweet disposition, she was a very dislikable person. "Now, I'm not normally one for pleasantries, but I don't believe you've mentioned your... girlfriend?"

Atlanta opened her mouth in protest, but promptly closed it as Archie began speaking.

"Apate," he said her name like it was acid, "this is Atlanta." Archie's gaze softened at once.

Atlanta smiled self consciously. "I missed you," she said laconically, the words tumbling unbidden from her lips before she could stop herself.

Now Archie was the one fighting a grin. He cleared his throat, and adjusted his commlink. "It's Archie."

A rumble of static. "Archie, it's Jay. Where are you?"

"At the front gate with Atlanta. There are three unconscious guards and they'll need medical attention," Archie responded, but not before Odie hissed "_Warrior, it's Leader!_ Why doesn't anyone use code names?"

"Well," Apate said with a tinkling laugh. "As much as I'd love to meet all your little friends, I better get going."

"The file," Archie pressed.

"It's all yours."

She held it out to him and it was all he could do not to snatch it away. Apate paused to fix her blonde hair, though it was an unnecessary gesture, because every strand was in perfect place, as if she'd just come from a ballroom, rather than a restricted government location.

Atlanta glanced back at the folder. Strange to think they'd gone to such lengths just to retrieve it. She turned back to Apate, but the girl was no where in sight.

"Hey guys!" Archie called as the rest of the team jogged over. He waved the folder over his head. "We've got the file."

"Could I see it?" Odie asked, his curiosity piqued. He set his bulky pack on the ground, and gently eased the folder out of Archie's grasp. He opened it as if it were brittle ice and would crack if he wasn't careful.

Jay peered over Odie's shoulder as the African-American teen began flipping through the pages. "Most of the writing's in ancient Greek," Jay acknowledged.

"Let me see," Herry craned his neck.

Neil gave it half a glance, before turning back to his mirror.

"Looks like the mission was a success after all," Atlanta murmured to no one in particular.

The only one who didn't seem to be basking in the glow of victory was Theresa, whose arms were clenched tightly around herself. "Guys," she said slowly.

Six pairs of eyes locked on her, alarmed by Theresa's emphatic tone. "There's nothing there. The folder's empty."


	7. Locus

_The minor goddess searched the earthen plane for a suitable locus of power to hide the disease. Hygieia's prayers were eventually answered by one of the Olympians. The Olympian goddess assured her that obtaining the disease would now be more difficult than trying to catch smoke with one's bare hands. And very few things could allude to being more evasive than smoke from a fireplace... a fireplace, or a hearth.  
_

* * *

_"Guys. There's nothing there."_

Neil tore his eyes from his mirror. Theresa's face was grim, but there _had_ to be a note of levity somewhere in her voice.

In all fairness, Neil had reserved himself for practically the entire mission, not uttering a single word that would set his team mates off. But seriously, they could be such killjoys sometimes. And they never took anything lightly.

"Good one, Theresa. No, really," he said snarkily, "I'm laughing so hard I'm not making any sound."

"Theresa, there are pages of the formula right here," Odie scrunched up his brow in concentration as he held the almost indecipherable squiggles out for her to see.

She shook her head adamantly. "You don't see it." With a tentative step forward, Theresa made contact with the folder. Whorls of purple fog danced around her fingertips as an eerie, pulsating light played across her face. "Look."

Neil blinked, and the pages flickered like a flame.

"The folder _is_ empty," a bite of frustration crept into Jay's tone.

"Maybe Hera only wanted the folder. There could be, like, a world-wide manilla paper shortage." As per usual, no one gave Neil a second glance.

"We came all this way!" Atlanta slumped forward as she spoke.

"Great, so now what?" Herry's muscular arms were pulled taut as he folded them across his chest.

With mounting irritation, Archie muttered out, "I bet Apate took the real pages."

Jay jerked his head sharply. "Apate?"

"She's the girl Neil spotted earlier. The one Odie caught on camera," Atlanta explained.

"No," Jay said, "Apate is the Greek personification of deceit."

"That," Archie said, remembering how he'd felt compelled to trust Apate, and how her hypnotizing eyes had changed colors, "makes a lot of sense."

"So she stole the file and left us with an empty folder?" Odie guessed.

The group, save Neil, exchanged a worried glance.

"Maybe not," Theresa said eventually, habitually biting her lip. "All magic has a unique fingerprint. In order for us to have seen any fake pages, Apate would have needed to cast a spell. If I reverse it, I might be able to uncover the formula. It's just," she paused uncertainly, "this kind of magic usually takes a lot of prepping."

"You can do it, Theresa."

"I might not be able to control my powers."

Jay's hands brushed her shoulder with a feather-light touch; gentle and reassuring.

Neil rolled his eyes and turned his fleeting attention back to his mirror. His team mates were melodramatic about _everything_, and—wait —was that a finger-print in the top-right corner of his mirror? He'd need to clean the smudge off as soon as they got back to the dorm. Ugh, and his hair lacked its usual lustrous sheen; the impromptu wake-up hadn't left him enough time to shower. He continued to survey his reflection, and only when Theresa let out a shuddering gasp did Neil's eyes flick back to her.

Her skin had taken on a purple hue and her pupils were dilated. "Threeeightpointtwoseventwosixeightnine. Twothreepointtwonineonezeroonesix. Threeeightpointtwoseventwosixeightnine. Twothreepointtwonineonezeroonesix," she repeated the numbers as if on a constant loop.

"Odie," Jay ordered, "write this down."

"I-I didn't pack any paper... or pencils for that matter."

"Seriously?" Atlanta asked. "Gatorade, but no—?"

"—Threeeightpointtwoseventwosixeightnine. Twothreepointtwonineonezeroonesix," Theresa's voice was laced with pain, as if each breath was being ripped painfully from her throat. "Threeeightpointtwoseven-"

"Oh, you guys so owe me," Neil whined, pulling out his liquid eye-liner. He began writing the numbers on the surface of his mirror as fast as his hand would allow, but even then he couldn't keep up with Theresa. Undettered, he waited for her to start again before resuming where he'd left off.

_38.272689. _

_23.291016.  
_

"I've got them," he announced minutes later.

"Go, Neil!" Atlanta cheered, punching him lightly in the arm.

"Uh, ow." Neil veiled his genuine surge of pride at her words with a cocky grin. Rubbing his arm, he added, "Good thing you guys have me around."

"Threeeightpointtwoseventwosixeightnine. Twothreepointtwonineonezeroonesix."

"Theresa," Jay gripped her by the arms as he tried to rouse her from whatever state she was in. "Theresa, snap out of it."

"Maybe you should kiss her?" Neil suggested helpfully. Oh, sure, he thought. _Now_ someone took his advice.

With another breathy gasp, the purple aura enveloping Theresa receded. She held out her arms to let everyone know she was okay. "I'm fine... just a bit dizzy," she added as an after thought.

Jay nodded, his soulful brown eyes wide with concern. "Neil, hand me your mirror."

Neil opened his mouth in protest, but reluctantly handed it over.

"These are just numbers. How can this be the formula?"

"Well, when Athena sent me mental images of the disease, I never actually saw a formula." Theresa ran an absentminded hand through her auburn hair. "Maybe these numbers are related to the disease."

"Like a death-toll?" Archie asked.

"Then why are there _two_ sets of numbers?" Jay asked.

"Deaths in the northern and southern hemisphere?"

"No," Odie whispered, as if afraid to say the words out loud. His voice carried like the chink of a pin dropping in dead silence as he held up a miniscule device. "The numbers are coordinates. Latitude and Longitude coordinates."


	8. Lucid Dream

_For millennia knowledge of the disease was nonexistent, until an oracle foretold that many would fall ill to a sickness of death. A disease that does not just cause death, but is caused _by_ death. _

* * *

Jay watched with mounting anxiety as Odie punched the latitude and longitude coordinates into his PMR. "The coordinates are of a town in Greece," he announced finally, "it's not_ too_ far from here, but it should take us roughly six hours."

"On foot?" Jay asked.

"By vehicle."

Jay heaved a sigh, running a careless hand through his light brown hair as he did so. "Guess we'd better get going."

"I'll send up sparks," Theresa announced.

The group blinked in confusion, and a bemused question of, "What? Why?" tumbled unbidden from Jay's lips.

"The unconscious guards still need medical attention, especially the one who was shot," she jerked her thumb towards the unconscious trio splayed across the gravelly earth. "I'll send up sparks... er, a flare signal, so the other guards know to come here."

Theresa waved her hand with a flourish; a flurry of purple sparks and smoke, and then they bolted away from the area.

After stopping at a public washroom to change out of their gear and back into their civilian clothes, the group ambled towards a suburban street. They waited at the bus terminal, the sun now a golden ball in the sky that steadily sapped them of energy. Jay tugged on the collar of his sweat dampened shirt, cursing himself for not bringing lighter clothing.

"I hate to get off topic," Archie said meekly, "but did you guys bring any food along?"

Atlanta hastily rummaged through her duffle bag, unearthing a bag of granola at the same time Odie retrieved a bottle of gatorade. Archie took a generous swig, wiping his mouth with the heel of his hand.

"Balances electrolytes," Odie remarked, eliciting a muffled laugh from Atlanta. Must have been an inside-joke.

Jay inspected his watch. "It's going to be a while before we get a chance to eat again. Why don't we all get lunch?"

"I'm game!" Herry said eagerly.

They ended up stopping at a diner, complete with low-hanging lights, tiled floor, and plush leather seats. They slid into a booth that was slightly too small to fit their party of seven, and slowly lapsed into silence as they waited for their orders to be taken.

A myriad of questions swirled on the surface of Jay's brain, but danced out of his tongue's reach. Finally he settled on, "What I don't get is how Apate fits into all of this? What would she want with the disease?" It wasn't that he minded the quiet per se, but it seemed as if every time another piece of the puzzle fit into place, they somehow ended up back at square one. As long as they focused on the mission, he could suppress how anxious he really was about this whole thing.

"You don't think she's working for Cronus, do you?" Theresa inquired.

Jay's expression slackened. "It crossed my mind," he admitted.

"'Ey weewax will wou?" Atlanta's speech was garbled with food as she shoveled in a handful of granola. She swallowed, and added, "we're stopping for lunch, so let's focus on something else."

Odie, who was pressed against Neil and Herry, squirmed. "I've been thinking, you know how after the smallpox disease was eradicated, samples were sent to secure laboratories? And how there was a lot of controversy over the possibility that some rogue nation or terrorist group could gain access to it and use it as a weapon? Well, what if that's what happened to this disease? Instead of searching for a formula, maybe what we should be after is a cache of the disease."

"So what your saying is that the coordinates actually lead to a... a what? Frozen stash of microbes?" Archie asked.

"Can't go five minutes without bringing up Cronus or something morbid," Neil griped as he gave the menu a casual glance.

"It's a possibility," Jay answered Archie's question (while blatantly ignoring Neil's remark). His shoulders hunched slightly forwards as he added, "and we shouldn't rule anything out until we know more."

"Are you all ready to order?"

Jay flinched, diverting his attention to the waitress. How long had she been there? Had she overheard anything? His stomach roiled with nausea, a symptom of his unease.

Her warm eyes fixed on Jay, as if she could sense the discomfort he was battling from his face. "Can I get you anything?" her voice was soothing and husky, like the crackle of a bonfire. "You look pale. Maybe you should use the restroom?"

He gulped, ignoring the six pairs of eyes that fixated on him. "I'll be right back," he assured them, while mentally cursing himself. He was the leader and he couldn't even keep it together.

Cool air conditioning blasted his face, as he pushed open the door to the restroom. He traipsed over to the sink, and splashed a handful of water on his face. He frowned at his reflection. The waitress was right; he did look pale. He swiped a hand at his forehead, as if that would change the sickly pallor back to its usual healthy color.

Something else about his reflection threw him off. Or more specifically, something about the mirror. Condensation and steam glazed over the reflective surface as if someone had recently showered, except besides his presence, the bathroom was empty.

Jay made a move to wipe the mirror clean, but as soon as his fingers, which were callused from sword fighting, so much as skimmed the surface, he felt a jerk beneath his navel. His stomach swooped out from under him, and Jay felt the briefest sensation that his blood was simmering and his organs were trying to escape his body in different directions, before he landed on the ground with a thud.

"I'm sorry for the rough landing. Sometimes we forget how delicate mortals can be."

A soft hand caressed Jay's arm, and he thrashed to push it away. Instead of making its mark, though, it simply passed through the woman as if she were made of smoke.

"I couldn't think of any other way to bring you here, and time is of the essence."

"W-who are you? Wait a second! You're the waitress."

The woman's aura exuded warmth, and her flame of hair spilled past her shoulders, a rich crimson to contrast against her plain silk chiton. She smiled softly at him, making the crow's feet bordering her eyes more noticeable. "Shame none of you have gotten to know me," something flickered in her gaze. "I am Hestia: goddess of the hearth and home, tender to the fire on Mount Olympus."

"Okay," Jay said slowly, "what do you want with me? And why are you here?"

"I admire you, Jay. You are willing to get your hands dirty if it means avoiding unnecessary conflict. I myself have _never_ had an aversion to soot or grime. I thought out of the chosen seven, you would be most likely to see things from my view. I apologize for manipulating your temperature. I gave you a fever back at the diner. It was the only way to separate you from your friends." Hestia paused to incline her head apologetically, before gesturing to a lit fire in the center of the room. "Come, walk with me."

Jay followed, reflexively splaying his hands in front of the fire. The temperature outside was sweltering, but this flame filled him with an entirely different kind of warmth.

"This disease you young heroes are after was made out of spite. An evil in its own right," flames danced around her fingertips as Hestia laid her palm over the hearth. "Is it a weakness of man that we gods want the disease for our own? My younger siblings, including Zeus and Hera, want what they do not have. To understand what they do not know. Our values all differ; my niece Artemis believes that nature should take its course; it is Dionysus' view that anything that can be done to counter illness should be done. And my father, Cronus, believes that evil can be best avoided if it is controlled. And who better to control it than him?"

"You mean you agree with Cronus?" Jay asked incredulously.

Hestia shook her head. "I am the gentlest goddess simply because I know to keep the fire burning within me contained. I may not agree with my father, but he is still my flesh and ichor, er, blood. I prefer to see the goodness in all of my loved ones, even the individuals estranged from the family. Much like you, Jay. You are the glue that holds your team together, yet if the time came, you'd be willing to step down from your position if it meant serving a higher purpose. Did you know that when Dionysus was made a god, I gave up my seat as an Olympian for him?"

Jay nodded. "I've read a lot of the myths."

"Myths?"

"Well," he stumbled for words, "I mean, I used to not think any of you were real."

"Well, it would seem that you were _myth-taken_. Ah, sorry, stole that one from Persephone. But back to the matter at hand; are you familiar with the Arae?"

"Uh, no actually."

"Like many figures in mythology, the Arae were associated with the sacred number three. Daughters of Nyx, they acted as spirits of retribution. Not to be confused with the Furies. Anyways, the Arae so generously offered curses to the dead who had been cheated out of life. And thus, the disease was born."

"You mean the disease came because some dead guy wanted revenge?"

"Some are not good at letting go of hate. I treat my emotions like tinder under a match; burning away sorrow, burning away loss. It is a lonely life. Which is probably why I'm babbling so much."

Jay cleared his throat and gestured to the room. "Sorry, but, where exactly is this place?"

"Greek Temple. Designated to Hades, I believe."

"How are you able to be here? I thought gods and goddesses were forbidden from entering each other's temples."

"As tender of the hearth, I am welcome in any temple, and a portion of every sacrifice to a certain god goes to me."

Jay shifted his weight from foot to foot, growing impatient. "What does this have to do with the disease?"

Hestia fisted a small handful of red-hot embers from the fireplace, but if the heat bothered her, she didn't let on. "Hygieia, the minor goddess of health, confiscated the disease from the Arae, and enlisted my help."

There was nothing proud or vain about how Hestia said "enlisted my help". She sounded like the kind of laid-back family member you could talk to if you got mixed up in something like gangs or alcohol. Sort of like an understanding grandmother, or a kind older sister.

"I couldn't let anyone else know of my involvement, so I hid the trace of the disease in a place where neither life nor death met. In the fire's of an Underworld temple. Though this location will soon no longer be safe."

Hestia stoked the fire with her hands. "Now that we've had our chat, I'm going to send you back to your diner, and then I'd like you and your team mates to travel to this temple using the coordinates you've already acquired. I don't want them to suspect that I've spoken with you and I think," she gave a knowing smile, "that it would be good to venture back here with your friends. We often miss things the first time around. Yet another reason that we should not hurry through life. It was nice meeting you, descendant of Jason."

With a hiss of smoke, Hestia vanished. The fire in the hearth swelled as if of its own accord, and tongues of flame began licking their way up the walls. The smell of acrid smoke filled his lungs, and Jay's vision began to swim. He blinked back tears from the heat and found himself slumped against the counter of a washroom sink.

He forced himself to his feet, and examined his reflection in the mirror. Had it all been a hallucination? Even in a world of titans and gods, what he'd just witnessed had seemed a bit far-fetched. Maybe the heat had gotten to him and he'd had some sort of... lucid dream? A second later, however, Jay spotted a smudge of ash under his brow. The fire, and, more importantly, his conversation with Hestia, had been real.


	9. Nuances

_What the Oracle did not see, was that a darker plan was brewing, far more dangerous than the disease its self._

* * *

Theresa shouldered her pack as the group came to a halt on the summit of a hill. A nearby tree, more gnarled and wrinkled than the face of an old man, stooped to kiss the barren earth. Goosebumps lifted along Theresa's arms as they surveyed a temple flanked with ionic columns. The temperature was still unbearably warm, but a breeze ghosted over her skin, like the chill of a man's last dying breath.

Odie eyed the temple, still clutching his PMR. "This _is_ the right location."

Jay nodded slowly. "I know. Several hours ago, when I was in the washroom at the diner, Hestia showed me the temple."

"Uh, what was Hestia doing in the men's room?" Neil wondered aloud.

"Maybe the ladies' room was full," Archie retorted with a smirk.

"Anyways," Jay cleared his throat, "she told me that we needed to come back here, in person. She said that we're supposed to notice something I didn't the first time. I guess we'll spread out and look for anything out of the ordinary."

"Whose temple is this, anyways?" Atlanta inquired.

"It's designated to Hades," Odie and Jay replied in almost perfect unison.

Theresa chewed on her lip as she approached the temple. There was definitely an aura about this place that screamed "death". Even the grass that was within close proximity to the temple was shriveled and yellow. She started to ascend the steps, but stopped midstride. "Did anyone else hear that?"

"Hear what?" Jay asked, craning his ear.

Theresa's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly as she listened.

"I didn't hear anything," Atlanta said with a shrug.

"Quiet," Theresa shushed her, too focused on the noise to worry about being polite. The sound was soft and shrill, like someone was crying. It was also very faint, to the point where it was inaudible.

_'Come here,'_ the voice whispered. _'We're over here,' _they chorused.

"Where?" Theresa called out, eyes darting around, before locking on Herry, who was positioned at the base of the temple. She stepped towards him, and the voices seemed slightly louder.

The group observed her silently, before Neil rolled his eyes. "Are we seriously going to pretend this hasn't happened before?"

_'We're down here, miss.' _

Theresa craned her neck. This voice sounded more child-like than the others. _'No, here.'_

"Where?" she asked again, growing more desperate. The voices giggled, a cacophony of different pitches and shrieks.

Realization hit Theresa like a freight train. She dropped to her knees, and cupped her hands around the head of a black flower. "Death lilies! I've seen these before," she turned back to the rest of the group. "Persephone keeps some of these in a bouquet in her study. They're about the only thing that'll grow in the Underworld, besides Pomegranate trees."

Tilting her head, she brought the flower to her ear. _'Hello,' _it giggled.

"Hi," Theresa replied laconically, not quite sure how to proceed in the conversation. "Um, my name is Theresa." She waited for a response, wondering if she'd said the wrong thing.

_'I used to have a name too,' _it replied finally.

"What was your name?"

_'I forgot. But my parents said it was a nice name. Until they died, and then they didn't talk to me anymore.' _

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that. Were they flowers too?"

_'No.' _

"Wait, are the flowers actually talking to you?" Neil asked. Without waiting for a response, he sauntered over and bent towards the ground, making sure not to get any dirt on his jeans. "Hello!" he shouted into one of the other flowers. He then held it to his ear. "What's it saying?"

Theresa pursed her lips, remembering the previous comment he'd made towards her. "That you have a lot of earwax."

_'Excuse me,' _the flower called, _'but why are you here, miss?'_

"My friends and I are looking for information a disease. Would you know anything about that?"

_'Oh, yes. We are very good listeners.'_

"If you could tell me what you know, that would be very helpful."

_'The other girl said we were helpful too.'_

Theresa tensed, her breath catching in her throat. _Other girl. _"What was her name?" She wasn't entirely sure why she asked the question, given that she knew what the answer would be.

_'I don't remember,'_ an indignant edge crept into the flower's voice, _'I don't even remember my own name. But we told her where the disease went, didn't we?'_

_'Yes,'_ the flowers swayed in a nonexistent breeze as they agreed.

_'She said we were very helpful. She needs the disease for the one she works for.' _

"The one she works for?" Theresa repeated, a numb sort of feeling blossoming in her chest. "Cronus," she spat the name like acid. "Apate is working for Cronus."

* * *

**Authors Note: Well, we're nearing towards the end. If it's not too much trouble, I'd appreciate a review. The chapter title is _nuances_, which means "a subtle difference in or shade of meaning, expression, or sound", so I wouldn't jump to any conclusions about where the fic is headed. **


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